


The Art of Diplomacy

by plotweaver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everybody Lives, I mean why else would Thrandy be there?, M/M, Smut, implied barduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotweaver/pseuds/plotweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo gets stuck under the table during royal negotiations and comes up with a creative way to get his husband to behave himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing smut! Let's do this!
> 
> Also, "shirumund" is khuzdul for "beardless." At least, according to Google it is.

Bilbo adjusted the crown on his head again. And again.

"Does it really bother you so?" Thorin asked. 

"Well, yes if you must know," Bilbo said. "Does it have to be so ostentatious?"

Thorin furrowed his brow. He thought the crown quite modest when he forged it for their wedding. Bilbo explicitly stated many times that he would not wear anything too large or overbearing, despite Thorin's protests that Bilbo deserved the finest crown embedded with the rarest jewels Erebor had to offer. His consort eventually wore him down, and Thorin forged a thin circlet of gold, elegantly twisted into the shape of fire lilies, the flowers at Erebor's gates. Bilbo had worn it on their wedding day, but refused to take it out of the ornately carved box on the bedside dresser for anything less than Thorin's absolute insistence. 

Thorin insisted that Bilbo wear his crown today. The Lonely Mountain was to receive Thranduil presently for trade route negotiations. The dwarven king and his consort waited in a large hall sometimes used for private royal dinners. The room now was fairly empty, nothing within the slate walls save for the enormous rosewood table and the two sitting at it.

"I still don't see why you need me here," Bilbo said. The hobbit otherwise took a great interest in the statecraft of Erebor, but had learned to stay out of matters involving both Thorin and Thranduil. He had no desire to watch while both elven and dwarven kings glared at and made fools of each other. 

"You keep me calm, Kidhuzurâl," Thorin said, reaching to take one of Bilbo's hands in his own. "Without you here I might leap across the table and let my axe fall on that smug elf's-"

"All right," Bilbo said. They both fell silent for a time, each looking in the other's eyes. Thorin did not know which of them smiled first, but in a few moments they were grinning at each other, one's smile fueled by the other's and vice versa. Bilbo shook his head, and his smile quickly disappeared when he realized that he still had his crown on his head.

"And this," he said, taking off the gold circlet and waving it in front of Thorin, "has nothing to do with showing me off?"

Thorin shrugged and avoided his eyes.

"Nothing to do with boasting of our riches or our marriage?"

Hobbits often spoke with their hands in their pockets during a sensible conversation, but Thorin could see the flush quickly rising under Bilbo's collar and knew this wouldn't remain a sensible topic for much longer. Bilbo was especially adorable when he was embarrassed, and Thorin tried not to smile, he really did. 

"You think this is funny? Thorin, it's no secret that your diplomacy needs some work, but showing off in Thranduil's presence-"

As he made a large gesture, the crown slipped out of Bilbo's hands and rolled under the table. Thorin tensed, moving to retrieve it. Bilbo quickly waved him off.

"No, no, I'll get it. I'm so sorry. Really, Thorin. I didn't mean..." The rest of the hobbit's words were lost as he crawled under the large table. Thorin could see his consort's feet sticking out from the edge. He smiled.

And then, with a great groan, the heavy stone doors to the hall opened, and two tall figures stepped forth.

Thorin glanced down. Bilbo's feet had disappeared. It would be a great embarrassment indeed if Bilbo were to reveal himself now, crawling out from the undignified position of under the table. He looked up again. The two coming toward him did not seem to notice anything amiss, so Thorin held his composure.

"Hail Thorin, son of Thrain." Thorin was surprised to see Bard walking into the room next to the smirking, shirumund king. He was not surprised, however, that Thranduil deemed Bard's greetings good enough for the both of them as he strode silently into the room.

Thorin stood.

"Hail Bard the Bowman, Slayer of Smaug the Terrible and King of Dale." Thorin dipped his head to the man. "Hail Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.”

"Where is your most honorable hobbit?" Thranduil asked. "He of all people should be joining us. He has a tendency to make others smile."

Bilbo's hand darted out from under the table and gripped Thorin just above his boot. Whether it was tension at Thranduil's insulting tone or a silent plea to come up with a convincing excuse for his absence, Thorin did not know.

"My consort is... otherwise occupied."

"A pity," Thranduil said before sitting at the table. He and Bard both took seats a few down from where Thorin sat at the head. 

"Be sure to give him our warmest regards," Bard said. The Bowman gave Thranduil a look that Bilbo often gave Thorin: a look that said, "You can behave better than that." Thorin nearly smiled.

"Shall we begin?" Thorin said and sat down. Bilbo's hand released his leg.

"Of course," Thranduil said, more subdued.

Thorin unfurled a map that lay on the table. "The kingdom of Erebor would like access to these trade ports here for minimal cost-"

Thorin stiffened. Bilbo's hands were on him again. They began stroking his legs just above his boots before they danced their way up and began nudging his knees apart.

Thorin quickly looked around, but neither Bard nor Thranduil seemed to notice his abrupt pause. In fact, both seemed to have already launched into a protest against what Thorin was presenting.

The dwarf king resolved to ignore his hobbit and press on.

"We are not being unreasonable," Thorin said in response to Thranduil's incessant muttering about illogical dwarrows. Thorin leaned forward to illustrate his point, and Bilbo used the change of position to part Thorin's legs. 

Gently, slowly, Bilbo ran his hands from kneecaps to groin. He applied some pressure with his fingers and began tracing small circles where Thorin's legs met his body. Bilbo continued this ministration for a few moments, increasing his pressure ever so slightly, before suddenly cupping the king with both hands.

Thorin gasped. Both Bard and Thranduil looked to him, but he waved a shaky hand in dismissal. "Oh, it's just these trade routes are a bit longer than expected."

Thranduil made a snide comment, but Thorin could not hear him, for Bilbo had begun stroking him over his trousers.

Bilbo's fingers fumbled over the buckle of Thorin's trousers, but with a soft clink, the buckle came undone. Thorin clenched his fists.

_Surely he wasn't... Surely his hobbit didn't intend to push this endeavor further..._

But his hobbit's intentions became very clear as his smooth hands began to carefully shift the material of Thorin's trousers and underclothes until his very erect penis was free.

Thorin cursed every bit of his body for responding this way. Cursed his hobbit for being so completely and utterly perfect. Cursed Thranduil and Bard for being here, and cursed his kingly duties for even existing. His only task, his only obligation should be to his husband, and the blissful things he could do with his tongue.

Bilbo slowly licked Thorin's shaft from base to tip, and the king could not help the shiver of pleasure that ran over his body.

"Are you cold, King Thorin?" Bard asked. 

"What? Oh, erm, yes. There was a draft."

"I didn't feel anything," Thranduil said. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "I did."

Between his legs, he felt Bilbo shake with silent laughter. Thorin resisted the urge to smile himself. Bilbo's mirth was always contagious. Instead, he drew a deep breath and directed Bard and Thranduil's attention back to supply numbers. Bilbo took up his work again as well.

His hot breath on Thorin's erection made the dwarf's toes curl. Bilbo took the head of Thorin's penis in his mouth and sucked gently. Slowly, ever so slowly, he took more and more of the king into his mouth. Every second was more wickedly torturous than the last. A lesser dwarf would have jerked forward, seeking satisfaction. But Thorin was no stranger to Bilbo's teasing ways. He fought every instinct and remained still, enjoying the torment of Bilbo's hot, tight mouth, knowing that he would soon be rewarded for his patience.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Bilbo had increased his pace. He pressed his lips tighter around Thorin to ensure silence in his speed. His tongue darted out every now and again. 

_So tight... So wet..._

If Thorin closed his eyes, he could picture Bilbo rocking back and forth in front of him, screaming his name as his cock disappeared into his beloved's ass.

His face was impossibly hot. It couldn't be this hot when all sensation, all desire had swarmed between his legs. He shifted in the chair, wanting desperately to dive under the table and ravish his consort. He wanted Bilbo to feel this wondrous agony. He would make the hobbit pay for this.

And why were the others still talking? Why did a world outside of this glorious desire exist? Why was it not just the king and his beloved, each others for the claiming, alone, forever? Why wouldn't Thranduil shut the hell up and stop bothering him about the damn trade routes?

"No!" Thorin slammed his fist on the table. As soon as he did it, he knew it was an overreaction. Everyone in the room froze, including Bilbo. Thankfully, neither Bard nor Thranduil knew the meaning of the curses that had spewed from his mouth. "Those changes would not be sufficient," Thorin said, quieter. He wanted to move past the moment, but everyone remained still. 

He hazarded a glance down to Bilbo. His flustered consort quirked an eyebrow at him and clearly mouthed, "Say sorry." Thorin barely shook his head in stubborn response. Bilbo darted his eyes to his king's painfully hard erection and back. 

_That little minx._

Was there anything that he would not do for his hobbit? Any price he would not pay to feel Bilbo's wondrous mouth against him?

Resisting the urge to swear, Thorin mumbled an apology and was promptly rewarded by Bilbo. 

Negotiations resumed, and so did Bilbo's attentive care.

His mouth seemed to take Thorin in deeper and deeper with each time Bilbo thrust his head forward. The fire in Thorin blazed hotter than all the forges of Erebor.

Bilbo brought his hands to Thorin's inner thighs and began rubbing tantalizing circles. It wasn't fair. Bilbo knew his weaknesses. Countless nights had made Bilbo an expert in the places that made Thorin grasp the sheets and devolve into endless streams of moaned khuzdul. The king did not have that luxury now, and it was all the sweeter, all the worse.

Some distant part of Thorin's brain realized that the room had gone silent. He scraped together some awareness and took in the two kings sitting at his table. Thranduil had his eyebrows raised in question, but the condescension had not left his face. Bard wore a mask of simple confusion.

"Sorry, what?" was all Thorin could manage. Thranduil and Bard glanced at one another. Bard moved to speak.

"We know it's a lot to ask-"

"We want to expand the Kingdom of Dale considerably to accommodate to growing populace," Thranduil interrupted. "This would, of course, cut short your main trade route."

"But we would reroute it through a new city center," Bard added.

Bilbo chose that moment to take Thorin in so deep that the tip of the king's erection grazed the back of his throat. Thorin nearly undid himself when he felt his consort's hand begin to cradle his balls.

It was too much. Too good. 

_Too good._

"Yes," Thorin rasped out, cutting off whatever placating thing Bard was saying about obliterating Erebor's main trade route. "Of course. Whatever you want. Just leave me be." 

"You need to sign-"

Thorin yanked the quill out of Bard's hand and scrawled his name on the parchment in front of him. Mahal knows if it even resembled his signature at all.

"Out!" Thorin said. The heat within him was spreading deliciously to his fingertips, his toes, the back of his neck. He felt too glorious and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. "I am unwell," he managed. "Please leave me."

The two kings gave each other another look and rose without protest. 

Bard and Thranduil left the room, graciously not glancing back at the undone dwarf. Thorin tried to stay quiet for as long as possible. He gritted his teeth and swore he saw stars, but it was hardly enough. As soon as the door shut behind the two kings, Thorin let out a loud moan. Bilbo echoed him, and the vibration sent Thorin over the edge.

Thorin gripped the arms of his chair and rocked his hips forward minutely as spent himself. Bilbo kept his mouth tight around him. 

"Oh, Kidhuzurâl. Bilbo, amrâlimê. Menu tessu."

Bilbo licked him once more, smiling as Thorin shuddered. "You mean everything to me too," the hobbit said. 

Thorin slowly opened his eyes. As he came back down to earth he wanted to behold his beloved.

Bilbo was beaming, lips red, cheeks flushed, and hair mussed. He was breathtaking. Thorin bent down to kiss him, groaning softly at the taste.

"You, Kidhuzurâl, are bad for diplomacy," Thorin said, resting his forehead against Bilbo's.

"Really? I thought you were much more responsive in these negotiations than I have heard you before," Bilbo said. Thorin's stern countenance quickly gave way to a smile.

"If that is how you plan to aid me in matters of trade and state, Mahal help the kingdom who tries to stop us."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry if someone already wrote this trope, but I just love it so much. Especially since Thorin is all about composure. Please let me know what you thought by commenting! I was very nervous about writing/posting this. 
> 
> More khuzdul translations:
> 
> Kidhuzurâl - golden one (it's my headcanon that Thorin calls Bilbo this all the time)  
> amrâlimê - my love  
> Menu tessu - you mean everything to me


End file.
